


Survivor's Guilt

by MythologyStar



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Urich is amazing, Gwen Stacy is amazing, Gwen is smart, Iron Man comes in later, People support Spider-Man, Peter has survivor's guilt, Sad Peter, Survivor Guilt, originally posted on ff.net
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-05 10:49:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11011920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythologyStar/pseuds/MythologyStar
Summary: When Spider-Man is recorded paying his respects to Captain Stacy's grave, news of his visit soon goes viral - making the people wonder what really happened at the top of Oscorp Tower that fateful night. The public's opinion of the red-and-blue vigilante has also begun to change for the better, unfolding new events and possibilities. Post TASM 1Originally posted on fanfiction.net under the same name!





	1. A Graveside Visit

**Author's Note:**

> So some of you guys might recognise me from fanfiction.net under the same name. Yeah, this fic is originally an idea that I had that grew into this. I have five chapters done, and I'll be posting them one at a time here, too!
> 
> I recently made an account here, so sorry if I don't really have a good grasp of the concepts (like tagging and whatnot), so you'll have to forgive me~!
> 
> In this fic, Peter is a few months away from his 15th birthday. I know he's young (like, Miles Morales young), but it'll make sense soon!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So some of you guys might recognise me from fanfiction.net under the same name. Yeah, this fic is originally an idea that I had that grew into this. I have five chapters done, and I'll be posting them one at a time here, too!
> 
> I recently made an account here, so sorry if I don't really have a good grasp of the concepts (like tagging and whatnot), so you'll have to forgive me~!
> 
> In this fic, Peter is a few months away from his 15th birthday. I know he's young (like, Miles Morales young), but it'll make sense soon!
> 
> Beta'd by Seedsiz on FF.net, although I'm pretty sure that she hasn't got an AO3 account... hmm...

A figure clad in red and blue swung through the streets of New York holding a small bundle of cloth in one hand, still managing to easily access the shooters on both wrists. It didn't matter if the people had been saved by him or just witnessed him catching crooks. Everyone knew who he was whenever people saw him swing by, they felt safer on the streets, knowing he was there to protect them.

Tonight however was different. The masked vigilante wasn't patrolling the city on the lookout for trouble. No, tonight he was swinging away from the bustling streets and high-rise apartments towards the higher part of town.

Towards the cemetery.

* * *

Peter swung through the last few blocks and stopped, landing in front of the rusty iron gates. He could easily have webbed his way straight to his destination, but doing that didn't feel right. He knew that the dead couldn't know or possibly care whether he walked or not, but something inside of him kept insisting that swinging himself up and over the final resting place of the deceased wouldn't be respectful. And that was why he was here in the first place - to pay his respects.

He opened the gates and walked in, the rusty iron hinges creaking quietly behind as they closed.

Graveyards during the day - particularly this one - had a sad and sombre atmosphere. This was only punctuated by his memory of the last time he was here.

_Two months... had it already been two months?_

Walking past one of the many long groves of trees that lined the fields, he began following an old route. Spider-Man unconsciously tightened his grip on the bundle he held.

You'd think that at night a graveyard would be scary, if not downright creepy - but it wasn't. It was peaceful. With the moonlight giving everything a soft, almost luminous glow.

There was no other word for it. It was peaceful.

Yet despite all the tranquillity it had to offer, Peter's shoulders began to get tenser and tenser as each step took he took brought him even closer to his destination. Trepidation quickened his breath as well as his stride. There wasn't much farther to go now.

And sure enough, there it was. It would always be here. The reason he couldn't sleep at night, the reason his mind felt so uneasy, day after day, week after week.

Two months. It had been two agonising months now.

The tombstone read: _George Stacy_

With trembling hands he unwrapped the cloth bundle and walked forwards, letting the rags fall away revealing... A single yellow rose.

The masked hero placed it at the foot of the grave before straightening again. For a long moment Peter Parker stood there silently. Then he spoke.

"I'm sorry, Captain."

With that, all the tension seemed to drain from his body, the words filling the void it left. Things that he'd kept to himself for months.

"Some people think I killed you, you know? Murdered you."

Silence.

"And although we know who the real killer was... I don't blame them." His voice grew softer, "I was, after all, partially responsible for your death and that is something I will always carry with me for the rest of my life." His voice trembled slightly.

"Why," he took in a deep shuddering breath, his voice came out sounding choked, as if he were trying not to cry. "Why did you have to die?" It came out as a plea, begging, almost.

And again, there was silence, for how could a dead man talk? Peter couldn't stand the quietness of it all. It seemed to be judging him. Mocking at the man who tried, the man who failed.

"I should have been stronger!" he burst out abruptly. A strangled sob managed to escape, "I should have been faster! I should have been _smarter!"_

His voice dropped down to a whisper.

_"I should have saved you"_

Taking a deep breath, he tried to compose himself.

"I'm sorry, Captain Stacy. I don't deserve to be here," he muttered bitterly.

As he turned around and left, the breeze carried his last words to the fallen soldier.

"I hope you're proud of me"

* * *

Later on, as the wall-crawler was on patrol as the protector of New York, he felt the tiniest amount of his heavy burden ease. He'd done the right thing

It wasn't much, but it helped.

* * *

At the cemetery, a shell-shocked man stumbled out from behind his hiding place and leaned heavily on a nearby tree. He pressed a button on his phone, stopping the video recording.

What the hell had he just seen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting the next chapter soon! :P


	2. It's out... and it's viral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Needless to say, Peter finds that the quiet expedition he took the other night wasn't as quiet as he'd hoped...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going to wait 'till tomorrow to post this, but eh, why not?

_Beep, beep, beep._

Peter blearily cracked his eyes open.

_Beep, beep, beep._

He squinted at the clock through his barely open eyes. _6:20 AM..._ Who in their right mind called someone at 6 AM? And on a Saturday! Why couldn't he get to sleep in for once?

Grumbling something about this better being important, he put the phone to his ear.

"He-Hello?" he managed in between a yawn. God, this really wasn't his day.

"Peter?"

He stiffened at the voice, drowsiness forgotten. _Could it be...?_

"Gwen?" He asked incredulously, What hap-"

She cut off his immediate question. "Where were you last night?"

"Uh..."

What kind of a question was that? She knew who he was. "New York?" He could practically hear the growl of exasperation at his vague answer. Man, he'd forgotten what she was like when her frustration levels went up.

"Let me rephrase that," she said slowly, "Where did you _go_ last night?"

Peter froze, feeling an icy cold beginning to settle in his veins. Why would she ask that? She didn't know anything about his visit. "What're yo-"

"Check the news." And just like that, she hung up.

For a moment Peter just stared down at his phone. He didn't know what to think.

True to his word, he had kept his promise to Captain Stacy, keeping away from Gwen even though it tore at his heart. It was depressing not being able to talk when they passed one another in the school halls, deliberately avoiding eye-contact even when he knew she was looking – hoping he'd look back. Hearing her voice and decidedly frosty cut-off only made it hurt more.

It had been nice to hear her voice again, to have her speak to him after so long. He stubbornly ignored the pang of sadness he had felt at her curt tone and turned to the most worrying thing at the moment. _Where did you go last night?_ coupled with _Check the news_ definitely did not bode well. At least for him.

Well there was only really one way to find out, wasn't there? Propping himself up on the bed, he grabbed the remote.

_"-And here we have what looks like Spider-Man paying his respects to the late Captain Stacy!"_ the news reporter announced just as the screen changed. Peter felt his insides turning to stone. _Oh God no..._

This really wasn't his day.

He saw himself, dressed as Spider-Man on the screen. Whoever had been filming him had been in the perfect spot. Not directly in front of him, nor at the side but somewhere in between.

He turned the volume up. _"I'm sorry, Captain."_ He could hear himself clearly now. But then the reality of the situation came crashing down.

Someone had seen him! Someone had actually been there at that time of night and recorded him! Belatedly he remembered the long grove of trees conveniently next to the line of graves. Judging by the angle of the shooting, it was probably where the guy had hidden.

_The motherhugger..._

_"Some people think I-"_ He flicked to another channel. This time it was one of those morning discussion sessions.

_"I mean, it makes sense somewhat."_ His already rapid heart-rate practically doubled when he realised what they were talking about. A brunette newscaster was talking to a man – presumably her partner for this session - who nodded.

_"Yes, it does. Put yourself in his shoes, err... suit. You get blamed for a death that you didn't cause, or couldn't prevent. You'd feel pretty guilty."_ The image of him placing the rose on the grave suddenly showed up on the large screen behind them. _"Most people would lash out at an accusation like that, but it seems that he is taking responsibility even where he shouldn't be. How can this be the same man as the one so recently hated by the publi-"_ Peter didn't want to hear any more; already his breath had begun to quicken. He flicked to another channel, and then another only to turn it off after it seemed that all of them were about the same thing. The news was _everywhere._

_Wait._

There had been an event almost as big as this one, when a famous actress had been robbed in Paris at her hotel. He didn't know all the details, but even he had heard about it. It had been so blown up that you couldn't not hear about it – everywhere you looked – whether it was the TV, the papers, the internet or-

The internet!

"Oh, crap!" The last thing he needed was for this to go viral, and it was bad enough already! Jumping out of bed he turned on his laptop. His heart sank as a quick search on 'Spider-Man visits grave' came up with dozens of links to news outlets, blogs and YouTube videos.

He didn't want to see the headlines or the articles, so he clicked on one of the video links, and sure enough, there it was. The same recording of him at the foot of Captain Stacy's grave. Could this get any worse? As if on cue, something else caught his eye.

The video was marked as the _#1_ trending topic on YouTube.

His room began to feel stuffy all of a sudden, as if the temperature had gone up at least ten degrees. He found it was getting harder to breathe – what if they started hating him again?! He needed to get out at once, not in costume, but in civilian clothes. He needed to gauge the people's reaction to all of this.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt he staggered outside, apprehensive about what he was going to find.

The public's opinion of the masked vigilante had changed dramatically since he'd taken up the mantle of Spider-Man. Instead of throwing trash at him or calling the cops, people had began to whoop and cheer as he swung past. Even the police turned a blind eye to his activities, some had even thanked him! It was quite a welcome change from being shot at. This had only become more apparent when the arrest warrant had been called off.

Then there was the incident with the cranes. Although he hadn't known it then, later on both he and the press had found out that the man who had orchestrated the route to help him reach Oscorp in time was the father of the little boy he'd saved on the bridge. And boy, did the media have a field day, saying that it was "A Debt Repaid" whilst Jameson had been infuriated at the positive outlook the 'menace' received. You could practically hear his roars of anger and frustration from one end of the city to another if you listened hard enough.

Jameson... God, the man was probably on a roll right now...

Peter was getting more and more agitated as he approached a newspaper stand. Well, where the stand was meant to be. He couldn't even glimpse it because of the gathering of a massive crowd of people talking animatedly amongst themselves.

"-says that he didn't kill-"

"-knows the real-"

"-the rose was-"

He did his best to ignore the excited chattering, partly because he wasn't in the mood to talk, but mostly because he was terrified of what their opinions might be. A few more muttered "sorry's" and "'scuse mes" later, he found himself at the epicenter of it all. Panting slightly, he anxiously scanned the various articles.

He couldn't believe his eyes.

_Masked Menace Trashes Grave!_

Of course, of course, only the Daily Bugle would have the guts to print something like that – especially when the photo behind it showed the rose laying innocently at the grave.

But that wasn't what had him shell-shocked. His eyes moved to the next headline.

_Survivor's Guilt?_

It was written by The Daily Globe, one of the major newspapers.

_For quite a while now, some of us have believed the web-slinging vigilante, Spider-Man to be a menace to society, often punctuated and supported by the Daily Bugle's wild accusations._

_But is he?_

_Last night, Spidey was recorded visiting the late police chief Captain Stacy' grave, and placing a rose on it! It might seem like a normal thing to do, to pay your respects to a loved one, but ever since his funeral there have been whispers that the red and blue hero played a part in the Captain's murder. If that is to be believed then why would he be showing a guilty and regretful conscience? For those that do not know, a yellow rose symbolizes friendship. Would a cold-blooded killer bring his victim a yellow rose?_

_Perhaps the whispers of murder are wrong, and that Spider-Man is really the hero we have all begun to love. For the rest of the story and a transcript of the video, proceed to page 4..._

With each headline, Peter's heart slowed and his erratic breathing evened out. Relief flooded his body. _They don't hate me!_ Suddenly he was hearing all the hype around him with newfound clarity.

"You know what? I think the Bugle's just been speaking nonsense the entire time!" an old woman declared to her friends nearby.

His heart lifted as there were nods and murmurs of agreement following her statement.

Then a young boy spoke up,"He's never actually done anything wrong! He's only ever helped people!" More nods from the people around him.

Peter, hearing all this, couldn't help but grin. Perhaps the guy who'd managed to record him was really a blessing in disguise!

"Ah, quit it, the lot of you!" growled a grumpy, harassed-looking middle aged man to the left of him. "Can't you people see him for what he really is? A dirty, no-good scum-"

"Now you shut your ungrateful little mouth right there, sonny!" Peter started in surprise as the old woman from earlier whirled around angrily. "Who d'you think you are, talking about someone who saved all of us – including you – so disrespectfully?"

The man visibly shrank back at the sight of the infuriated granny. Peter expected it to end there, and it didn't. Other voices began to ring out from the crowd.

"Yeah, you should be thanking Spider-Man! Not bad-mouthing him!"

"So ungrateful!"

"What gives you the right to say that? You're just as bad as Jameson!"

The unfortunate man cowered as the crowd pressed inwards.

"Get outta here!" The old woman crowed.

He didn't know whether to feel amused or slightly guilty as the man scuttled away, but he couldn't help but grin. Yes, people's opinion of him had definitely improved. They openly respected him! This was going so much better than he had ever imagined. Seeing all the people he had protected, defending him was a nice change from all the hate he had been getting. His phone rang again, snapping him out of his euphoria. It was Gwen.

"So..." He began, starting to walk away from the stand and back towards his house, "checked the news, alright."

He could hear her sigh heavily on the other end, "Look, Peter-"

"Y'know, I really don't see why you seem so pissed about it, I mean, at least they know I didn't-"

"I know Peter!" she cut in, "And I'm sorry I got so touchy with you!"

Silence reigned. How was he to respond to that? "Uh... okay, then. Why were you mad at me, anyway?"

"It's-" her reply was suddenly cut off by muffled shouting in the background. Peter's advanced hearing, however, easily picked it up.

_"Miss Stacy! Miss Stacy! What are your thoughts about-"_

_"Gah!"_ Her growl of frustration couldn't help but make him pause in alarm.

"Gwen?" He pressed the phone closer to his ear.

"Not you!" She hissed back. Jeez, she sounded angry...

More muffled shouts.

_"Well they'll just have to wait!"_

"Gwen! What the hell is going on over there?"

"I-" Again, her reply was cut off, _"I said not now!"_ A door slammed shut.

"What the heck is going on?!"

Peter thought he heard a small _'Ahhhhhh'_ coming from her side. Her reply came somewhat muffled, like she had her head in her hands. "Do you want the long story, or the short story?"

"Gwen..."

"Fine," she groaned. "Long story short: He was my dad, Peter! News reporters have been banging on our door since six, and now they've just gone to camping at the front of the building! We can't go anywhere!"

Oh. So that's why she seemed so annoyed at him.

 

_Craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically a scene I should've added to the last chapter...

Mouth gaping like a fish out of water, he struggled to think of something to say.

"Uh... news reporters?"

"News reporters, journalists, the paparazzi, whatever you call them, yes! They want to interview me!"

_What?_

"Mum's not having any of it, she says that the boys are too young and that she's not sticking her nose outside 'till they've gone! Which leaves just me, everyone's trying to interview _me._ "

Peter couldn't believe what he was hearing. What was the point prying into the Stacy family's life? "In-interview you?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, "They want my opinion and thoughts about the whole thing and whether or not I actually believe any of the crap the Bugle used to throw at you."

"The Bugle still publishes crap y'know," he replied dryly. Inward, his mind was reeling, God, he hadn't meant to involve her family just by visiting a grave!

He heard her snort at his attempted humour. Dammit, why were his little quips always showing up in situations like these? Not that this happened often. He sighed, running his free hand through his hair as he approached his house. He sat down heavily on the porch stairs.

"Look," he began, "I'm sorry for dragging you into this, Gwen. I should've checked the area first," he added morosely.

Now it was her time to sigh. "It's okay, Peter. I just don't know what to do!"

An idea occurred to him then, "I can swing by your block in-suit, get some attention off of you." It wasn't the best idea he had ever had, but it _was_ worth a shot! "Maybe they'll-"

"No! Wait!" Her sudden outburst made him jump. "No! Don't do that!"

All he could get out was a "huh?" before he heard her muttering on the other end.

"-such an idiot, gah! Can't believe I didn't think of this sooner!"

A bit confused, he asked her, "Think of what?"

"The journalists!" she said rapidly. "They want an interview? Fine! They'll get one!"

"Gwen?" _Was she off her rocker?_ "You _just_ said that you were sick of them!"

"I know I did, but hear me out! They want my opinion on all this, remember? I'll tell them how the Bugle was wrong about you! How the police were right to call off the arrest warrant, how you weren't responsible for-"

"-for what, Gwen?" he cut her off coldly, "Captain Stacy's death?"

"Of course you weren't-"

"Did you even watch the clip?" He hissed, suddenly, "Spider-Man said that he was partially responsible, but I disagree. He was fully responsible, in every way possible."

There was a short silence on both ends.

Then she quietly responded, "Peter, don't you see? I'm not doing this for Spider-Man, I'm doing this for you! You need to understand that it wasn't your fault. You only ever wanted to help others! How were you supposed to know what Doctor Conners was going to become?"

She took a deep breath, as if to steady herself. "You need to let go of the guilt, Peter."

He couldn't speak, his throat suddenly thick with emotion. Any words he tried to speak just died on his tongue. "I..."

"Peter?"

She was right, she really was. He had to let go of the guilt from his mistakes and Gwen, of all people, had the right to say that. It was her father after all. Slowly he felt his throat unstick.

"Thank you."

_Thank you for the support,_ he thought internally, _Thank you for making me understand._

_Thank you for setting me free._

Peter could almost see that gentle smile, the one that could light up a room, adorned on her loving face. He smiled as the memory lightened some more of his burden.

"You're welcome. Now get going! You have a city to look after, and I have an interview to give!"

But some of his old fears still clung to him. He shuddered as he remembered the gunshot wound to his leg...

"Are you sure that they'll believe you?"

"I think you are forgetting that I'm the lead intern at OsCorp as well as the daughter of the former NYPD Police Chief. My word holds much more weight than you think."

Peter smiled for the first time in what felt like months. Really smiled, not those grimace-like ones he just used to reassure aunt May. "Thanks, Gwen!"

"I thought I told you to get going?"

Later that afternoon, people could've sworn that they heard the red and blue figure whooping has he swung through the city.

If they could see through his mask, they would've also noticed the massive smile lighting up his features like there was no tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all those who put Kudos! They really do mean so much to me!
> 
> I had a read-over, and I personally didn't like how I wrote, so I hope that you guys don't mind the less-than-fantastic quality of this...
> 
> Ah well, you can't win 'em all, I suppose! Perfection is chasing after perfection and all...
> 
> See ya in the next chapter! :P


	4. Words on a crane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever wondered how the video got recorded in the first place?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This doesn't really add to the plot, I know, but I find it nice in it's own little way!

* * *

If he'd thought the city had gone crazy on the first day, it was nothing compared to this.

New York practically exploded after Gwen had given her interview to the press! It was madness, utter madness.

Speaking of which...

He glanced towards the coffee table in the living room where several newspapers varying from the Bugle to the Times Square lay open, all showing the same subject.

_"Stacy Family Clears Spider-Man"_ The Sunday Post.

_"Spidey Declared Innocent!"_ Times Square.

_"A Rose For My Father"_ The Daily Globe.

Aaaaaaand then there was Jameson. Seriously, did the man even stop? There _was_ a reason people kept poking fun of the Bugle, y'know!

_"Stacy Blackmailed?"_

He sighed. Why did JJJ hate him so much anyway? What had he ever done to the man for this? He wandered over to the table for a closer look. Not at the Bugle's, he'd had just about enough with them. No, for once he decided to take a look at things from a different perspective...

Sunday Post, based of on the short front-page article, was honest. Huh. Nice surprise.

_Not sure if one person backing me up is enough to make me innocent_ , he thought idly to himself as he read the Times Square. _Even if her word is this influential._ Curious, he opened it to read the rest of the article.

"Spider-Man didn't kill my father" _\- Were some of the first words that greeted reporters at the front of the Stacy home from none other than the late Police Chief Captain's daughter, Gwendolyn Stacy._

_"It's ridiculous, I mean, look at it! Spider-Man has done absolutely nothing but help others! Sure, my father prosecuted him in the beginning,, but the night he... he died, he changed his view on him. Ask his fellow officers, they'll confirm it."_

_"But then what made him suddenly change his mind?"_

_"I think he simply realised that Spider-Man was trying to save New York that night, not raze it to the ground like some people believe."_

Peter couldn't help but grin as his spirits lifted. It was curious feeling. Feeling free. Free from all the guilt from Captain Stacy's death. Re-reading the article, he snorted. He'd wager his web-shooters that one of the people that she was referring by _"Not raze it to the ground like some people believe,"_ was a certain hot-headed editor...

Grinning again, he moved onto the next paper, The Daily Globe. Wait, wasn't this one of the Daily Bugle's main competitors? Peter was also pretty sure that they were the same agency that did yesterday's 'Survivor's Guilt'. Well, then this ought to be interesting.

But that wasn't the only thing that caught his eye, "A rose for my father," he murmured aloud, "Huh." He muttered, "Well that's different." Immediately, he was hooked. Looks like the Daily Globe hadn't asked the same questions as the other three!

Flicking to the main page, he noticed the massive graph on the opposing page to the article. Deciding to check it out later he focused on the interview.

_"You've said that your father changed his view on Spider-Man hours before his death. Would you care to elaborate on his reasons for making this decision, miss Stacy?"_

_"My father was in the police-force and as such there are several laws and rules he had to consider above the obvious morality of a situation. Spider-Man is a citizen, and no citizen is above the law. What my father did was to honour and uphold those laws, but in the end he realised that Spider-Man was only breaking those laws only to save lives, and that is something every police officer is allowed to do. Spider-Man has never purposely broken the law, he's always upheld it."_

_On the next page is a graph showing the amount of arrests made after Spider-Man made his first appearance. The numbers have clearly doubled, while at the same time, the number of police officers injured on duty has fallen drastically._

Peter studied the graph. Looked pretty accurate, so to speak.

_"In the months where he first began showing, Spider-Man averaged about twice the arrests and captures a night of what the NYPD could manage in a week! But in the weeks following the Captain's death, that number triples, nearly quadruples, in amount! Could this because of his lingering guilt towards the man?"_

_"If so, the respect for the web-slinger from us, the Daily Globe, has officially gone up-"_

"Peter?"He looked up as his aunt came down the stairs to the kitchen, "I didn't know you were up this early! Have you had breakfast yet?"

Peter jumped up and grabbed his bag, "I'm good! Going out now, anyway!" Before she could protest, he'd already run out the front door, eager to get an early start on patrol.

Back at the kitchen, May couldn't help but smile at his antics. Boys and their teenage years...

* * *

The stupidity of criminals never ceased to amaze him. It even said in the newspapers that he'd begun to take down a months worth of crooks in a night in comparison to the NYPD, but did they ever stop coming? Or at least have the brains to stop robbing people in broad daylight?

_Noooooooooooooooooooooooo!_

"-Ooof!"

The would-be mugger gasped as the wind was knocked out of him.

"And just where d'you think you're going?" Spider-Man asked in a mock-nice voice as the man tried to stumble away. Flicking his wrist several times, he had the man webbed to a lamppost.

"Hey!" The man was still bouncing up and down in his cocoon but he still managed to say something. "Oi! Lemme go, or-"

_Thwip._

The web conveniently covered his mouth. Not that he had been aiming for the mouth of course. Pure coincidence. Totally...

The vigilante snorted. "Or you'll what? Threaten me? Yeah, not happening, mate." Stepping back, he surveyed his work. There was no way he was getting out of that unless he had help. Or until the cops showed up - and even then they might have trouble. Grinning behind the mask, he turned to the young woman who he'd just saved. She was trembling but looking at him in awe.

"Th- thank you," she stuttered, not taking her eyes off him.

"Just your friendly, neighbourhood Spider-Man!" he replied easily. Raising two fingers in a quirky little salute he leapt up to the trapped man. "We should hang out sometime!" He winced internally. _Oh god..._ "That was a bad one," he muttered to himself as he shot another string and swung away.

* * *

An hour, a dozen crooks and an attempted convenience store robbery later, he found himself crouched atop one of the numerous cranes working on some new skyscrapers.

It was a nice observation point from the view and all, but it also came with a few fringe benefits too. He could just stop here and relax his muscles for bit, take a breather after a long day - all the while keeping an eye out for crime from a vantage point.

Peter wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not, but sometimes he thought that he noticed the men in the control boxes unobtrusively shift their cranes closer to make it easier for him to swing from one to another during a chase or whilst he was swinging by. Regardless of whether it was intended or not, it was nice to have a small, safe haven every now and then.

"Uh... Spider-Man?" A timid voice called. Peter turned his head. It was the worker in the control box of the crane he was sitting on. The man was sticking his head out of the box, looking like he already regretted having spoken up.

_Wonder what he wants?_

Curious, the vigilante raised a hand and waved. "'Sup?" he called back, watching the surprise spread across the man's face as he realised that the web-head had responded. Fishing around in his pockets he pulled out a piece of paper and waved it. "Can... can I get an autograph, Spider-Man?"

Gobsmacked, Peter stared hard at the paper, letting his advanced senses do their work.

It was a photo! A photo of him!

He didn't really know what to say, but something about the man's request had completely caught him by surprise. Someone wanted his autograph! A warmth spread through his chest and he smiled. He had been called a hero before, but this was different, not like the immediate gratitude he'd get after a disaster and then to be forgotten. Not that he'd ever wanted recognition for what he did; but now that he was getting it, it felt...nice. It felt very, very nice.

"Uh... Spidey?" He suddenly realised that he'd been staring for a bit too long. Getting up from the crouched position he'd been in for the last half hour, he moved towards the control box and to the man.

The worker looked at him, puzzled by his uncharacteristic silence. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he reassured him, dropping in through the window, "It's just... nobody's ever asked me for an autograph before. You're the first."

"Whoa. Really?!" The man seemed surprised at this. "You'd think that after the police got used to not shooting you on sight people would be clamouring to ask for these things. I'm Darren, by the way." He seemed to have gotten over his initial nervousness, although looked rather wary. Not particularly surprising, really, when one considered who he was talking to. He took a closer look at the photo Darren had held-

And promptly froze.

Oh.

_Oh._

_So that's why he's so nervous..._

Looking up from the photo, his white masked eyes found Darren's wide, scared eyes. Setting the picture down on the control board, he turned back to the worker.

"It was you," he said in a low voice. It wasn't so much of a question as it was a statement. He _knew. They both knew._

Something resembling resignment entered his features. "Yes, it was me," he admitted quietly, looking ashamed.

The photo was of Spider-Man swinging from a web, just seconds before landing in front of an iron gate. The very same rusted iron gate to the cemetery in which the video recording of him had been shot. The photograph itself had been taken from _within_ , and to concrete matters, the only other shots were from the paused frames of the recording.

Meaning this was the guy who'd made the video.

"I... I know..." He whispered, "That what I did was wrong - I just did what I thought was a good idea at the time... when I saw you enter, I-I followed you. I was curious."

_Why hadn't his spider-sense gone off then?_

"Did you, by any chance, follow me so you could try to see who it was under the mask?"

It wasn't uncommon for his spider-sense to tell him when someone was looking in his direction when he was about to change. Probably because in a roundabout way, he considered anyone who found out his identity a threat to himself.

"What?" The worker straightened, seemingly repulsed by the very notion. "No! Like I said, I just got curious as to what you were doing there and... well..." his words died away. "They say curiosity killed the cat."

That made more sense. If he hadn't wanted or tried to find out his identity, then that would explain why his spider-sense never warned him of his presence. It didn't see him as a threat, and rightfully so. _But then why...?_

"Why the press, then?" Peter lifted the photo again. "Why with the papers? You said you were only curious."

Darren didn't exactly strike him as an attention seeker. He really just seemed like the nice average Joe.

Said man looked at the ground, breaking eye-contact. "After I taped you... I... I wasn't thinking properly. Just did the first thing that came to mind."

_Go to the nearest news agency._

There was a long, pregnant pause.

Then the vigilante sighed.

"You should be thankful that I never took my mask off. Or mentioned my real name."

The man looked surprised at the tone of his voice. _You're not angry?_ his eyes seemed to convey.

"No, I'm not mad at you. I was before, but not anymore."

Darren raised his eyebrows in confusion. He'd clearly expected a furious response to his confession. "Why? The papers are going crazy, the internet practically imploded in on itself and everyone's talking about it! Why _aren't_ you angry?!"

Peter chuckled, not out of amusement, but at the irony of it all. "Oh, don't get me wrong, I _was_ angry. Very, _very_ angry."

Darren gulped.

He turned away to study the photo. "But then I realised that what you did that night was... well... you could say it was a blessing in disguise. What you recorded that night wasn't exactly a confession, it was an apology, of sorts."

He hesitated. It wasn't _just_ an apology either...

"It was me... taking responsibility. It was me acknowledging my guilt, the consequences of my actions..." He let his words die away. Turning to face Darren again, he handed him back the photo. It wasn't signed.

"What-"

"If you thought I'd sign that, you're wrong!"

Darren's face fell.

The vigilante moved to climb out the window. "Could you wait here a bit? I'll bring _my_ camera. That way you can have a shot worth keeping!

* * *

"The next day Darren found an envelope addressed to him webbed to the window. Upon opening it, delighted laughter filled the small compartment.

It was the two of them taking a selfie, with a hand signed 'Spider-Man' scrawled on the bottom corner.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wish that Ao3 had a publication system similar to FF.net, because having to write HTML code via typing manually or copying and pasting around any words you want to bold and/or page breaks is extremely tiring, and it doesn't help you when you want to publish quickly under pressured time!
> 
> Seriously, it adds an extra 10-15 minutes, as I'm coping and pasting the chapter, and _then_ having to add in all the coding, as any italics/page breaks included previously are just erased from existence.
> 
> Argh.
> 
> In any case, I hoped you guys like this! Comment if you actually care about this, because I actually have no idea of the opinions of the vast majority of people who read this.
> 
> See ya in the next chapter!


	5. Out of the smoke...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a burning building. Need I say more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't judge, I had no idea what to call this one!

"Hello? Is anyone in here?!" he yelled into the kitchen, desperately trying not to inhale too much of the smoke surrounding him. His voice came out shaky from the smoke he had already inhaled, but it was still loud enough for someone to hear over the crackling flames.

He hoped.

"Help! Help me! Mummy!" A frantic voice howled from behind a door. "Help!"

Running to the door, he wrenched it open to find a child cowering behind a burning closet. Bending down, he bundled the kid in his arms. He turned to the door to leave, eager to get out of here before-

_Crash!_

The little boy shrieked as the wall collapsed in the smoky inferno of the flames, and with it, the door.

"Oh no. No, no, no!"

It was getting harder to see through all the smoke, despite the bright fires that were springing up everywhere. Plus, the kitchen door was now gone. He looked to the kid in his arms. The boy was starting to cough. A lot.

"This is going to be scary," he said soothingly. The boy looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. "But I need you to be brave, okay? Can you be brave for me?"

He received a nod.

Taking it as permission, he quickly shifted the boy to his left and ran to one of the windows. He turned to his right so that the child would be safe and jumped, smashing through glass and into the night air. He took a deep breath of the clean night air that wasn't clogged with smoke and ash.

Shooting out a web, he swung to the pavement below, grunting as the impact jarred his whole body and his already shaky legs buckled beneath him. The crowd that had surrounded the building was now all around him, standing in a wide circle.

"Luke?! LUKE!"

A dishevelled mother ran out from the mass of people, shoving many out of her way in her haste.

"Mum!"

The little boy scrambled out from under his arms and rushed to his mother. She hugged her son tightly.

As heartwarming as the scene was, Peter forced himself back to his feet, coughing badly. He had to go back in there!

The crowed pressed inwards as he made to move.

"Spider-Man! Are you okay?"

"Do you need help?"

"Where are you going?"

The vigilante started trembling. No! He had to go back! As good as their intentions were, there were too many, they were pressing in-

"Whoa, whoa, let the guy breathe!" a strong commanding voice rang out. "Come on people! Get back to what you were doing before!"

The crowd reluctantly began to disperse, and with it, his earlier panic.

"You okay, Spidey?" A hand was put on his shoulder. "D'you want me to-"

Whatever he was going to ask was interrupted when the web-head went into another coughing fit, doubling over as his lungs attempted to force out the smoke he had inhaled. When it passed, he looked up at the man.

It was a cop.

_Swinging his way out of there, he had to get to Oscorp, to Gwen!_

_"Hold your fire!"_

_Boom!_

_A blinding pain in his calf. He'd been shot, and it was like a-_

"Hey! Calm down, Spider-Man! It's okay! I'm not going to hurt you!"

Peter blinked. His body had instinctively frozen into a crouch, ready to flee or fight, his breaths coming out in ragged pants. The cop in front of him had his hands up, showing he was unarmed.

He let out a shaky breath, relaxing his posture and shaking off the last of the flashback. He really, really needed to get over his instinctual fear of a man in uniform.

"Sorry... it's just, I've never really had a good experience with cops."

"It's fine, don't worry," the officer replied, putting his hands back down. "You did a good job back there, y'know? Saving that kid."

His head snapped back up. "The kid! There could be others in there! I have to get back!"

"No you don't, web-head. Everyone's accounted for. That kid was the last one in there, you did a good job."

His shouldered slumped in his relief. He had gotten everyone out. Everyone was safe.

"You should get yourself to the medics."

"I'm fine."

The cop scoffed, clearly disbelieving. "Have you looked at yourself, lately?"

_What? Oh...  
_

Rips in his suit were scattered around his torso, as well as small cuts and scrapes that were bleeding. Several burns also lined his forearms from the all the fires he inevitably had contact with. To him, it didn't look that bad, with his healing factor and all, but to others... yeah, he could see why they'd get concerned. The scraps and burns were pretty minor, so they'd all be gone in less than a half-hour, without even a scar left behind.

"I told you, I-" Another coughing wracked his body, forcing him to double over.

But his lungs, on the other hand...

The officer sighed and waved over some of the paramedics.

* * *

**_Earlier that day..._ **

**_Midtown High - Before school  
_ **

Although he didn't let any of it show, he was inwardly seething at his earlier stupidity.

Goddammit! He had promised the Captain! He had promised him as he was dying, and what did he do?!

He let her get too close again! Just because he got terrified of the press getting their hands on a recording!

Worse than the sorrow of losing her was the false hope he knew they were both harbouring. Distancing himself from her only to seemingly pull her back at the last moment, it was just cruel.

"Way to go, _Parker,_ " he hissed angrily to himself, "Can't even keep one, single, goddamn promise to a dying man."

He wrenched his locker open with vehemence. Captain Stacy hadn't even asked too much! He hadn't asked him to quit the Spider-Man gig, nor had he asked him to turn himself in to the police. He'd made Peter promise for the sake of his daughter's safety, something that Peter agreed with.

So why was it so hard?

"Peter?"

Said boy flinched violently, almost dropping his books. He turned to look at the speaker, but he already knew who it was.

"Gwen." His voice was completely flat.

They hadn't spoken with one another since... they hadn't spoken for two months now. And two months was a long, long time...

She ignored his discouraging tone, instead dropping her voice down to a whisper. "We need to talk." When he made no move to follow her, she added, " _Now_." Without waiting for him to respond, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the nearest (empty) classroom, ignoring his protests.

Peter just stared at her incredulously as she shut the door behind them. "If this is about-"

"It is," Gwen cut him off. "You know as well as I do that my father made you promise to stay away from me."

"Then why are we here?"

"Because," she took a long, steadying breath. "I asked my mother what my dad thought of us and it turns out, he had the wrong idea."

"The wrong idea?"

"My dad, he thought we..." she faltered, seemingly unsure of what to say. A faint blush coloured her cheeks.

Just _what_ had her father thought?

"What did he think, Gwen?" His voice came out gentler than he expected.

A small laugh escaped her. "He thought you and I were more than friends, Peter."

It took a moment for the truth to register to him. When it did, however...

"Wait, what? He thought _what?!_ "

"Your reaction was the same as mine," she remarked dryly.

"But we're too young to be in a relationship!" he hissed.

"I get that but don't you see?" The change in her tone caught him off-guard."Maybe my father only made you promise that because he thought we were in a romantic relationship!"

Peter opened his mouth to say that, _No. That couldn't possibly have been the case_ when he stopped.

Risking everything for a loved one seemed like such a cliché thing to say but ever since he had become Spider-Man that was what his life had become. He might not love every New Yorker in that sense of the word but in truth that _was_ what he did. He risked everything for the people. He was their protector. Just like a policeman...

Suddenly it didn't seem like such an alien thought that Captain Stacy might have been thinking along the same lines. What if he was scared that Gwen might get caught in the middle of a situation? Torn between the risk of helping _him_ or fleeing and ensuring her own safety?

Her father had every reason to think like that. His last battle with the lizard was just proof that his worries were well placed.

"You have... that's actually a good point," Peter admitted reluctantly, "but are you sure-"

The bell chose that moment to ring, cutting off the rest of his words.

Gwen started and rushed for the door, "I've got to go, I've got calculus! But think about it!"

* * *

_**Present** _

And it was only now, sitting on the sidewalk and breathing through an oxygen mask that Peter started giving serious thought to what Gwen had told him.

He _had_ managed to stop the ambulance workers from cleaning and bandaging his wounds, instead telling them to check on the civilians who needed the medical attention more than him. He _hadn't_ , however, managed to sway them from giving him an oxygen mask, and so he found himself sitting on the sidewalk with his mask rolled up to the top of his mouth and taking deep breaths of the clean air.

Maybe Gwen was right. Maybe her father had been wrong in trying to keep them separated; even if it was to keep her safe. Perhaps... perhaps they could just remain friends as they were before. What harm could it do?

Some of the victims from the fire were looking at him curiously. He could feel their gazes on him. They were probably wondering what he was doing here getting medical help.

"Well, this is a first," a voice said. He looked up.

It was a dark skinned man in a suit. Probably in his late forties, if his salt-and-pepper beard was anything to go by. "Not something you see every day, is it? A hero receiving medical help on the street."

His voice wasn't mocking or condescending, it was straightforward and frank; the man was only speaking his thoughts.

Peter took the oxygen mask off. "Yeah, well I didn't have much of a choice," he snorted, gesturing to the ambulance nearby. "They kinda forced this onto me."

Chuckling, the man sat down on the sidewalk next to him. "I can't relate, you're the crazy one who swings around in a costume here."

And just like that, Spider-Man began to smile, knowing that the lower half of his face was visible. Despite being in the suit and having never met before, there was something about this man that was just so... so _likeable._

"Ben Urich," the guy said suddenly, extending his hand. "I'm a reporter for The Bulletin."

The vigilante took it. "The Bulletin?" he asked warily. "I'm guessing you're here because your boss wanted an interview, then?" Peter couldn't keep all the bitterness from his voice. To think that he finally found someone who was willing to engage him in a normal conversation and then...

"Y'know," Ben remarked, noticing his change in demeanour, "my boss didn't send me. He doesn't know I'm here, actually."

_That_ got the vigilante's attention. "Then why are you here?"

Ben glanced around as if to make sure nobody was listening in before answering in a quieter voice, "Because I want to give you an opportunity. Let me tell you something: it's much better to answer the questions and tell people the truth than leave them guessing and making up their own theories."

"I don't understand."

"You said it yourself in the recording, remember how you said that some people think that you killed Captain Stacy?"

It was true to some extent, but he saw what the man was getting at, "Yeah..."

"Well, this could be a chance to prove them wrong. What do you say?"

A chance to prove them wrong... a chance to tell the world what had really happened that night...

Ben had a point. People, when not presented with an immediate answer to things would always assume. And most of the time the assumptions were way off the mark. It was tempting, _so_ tempting. But there was the thought of misleading articles that held him back. What if he just ended up printing something entirely different to what he said?

Peter looked back up to reporter. He liked what he saw, an honest man; trustworthy. He wanted so much to say yes, put faith in this man to tell the truth. But something in him still hesitated.

"I'll think about it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Whadaya think? I have maybe 350 words of the next chapter done, too...
> 
> Comment your thoughts! It does mean a lot to me!


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